


The nights were as dark as my baby, and half as beautiful too

by IneffableDemon



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 18th Century, Carnival, Costumes, Crowley has long hair, Dancing, F/M, First Kiss, He/Him Pronouns for Aziraphale, Masquerade, She/Her Pronouns for Crowley, There are photos with clothes because i love researching for it, They are dumb, They love each other so much, Venice, Wing Grooming, beautiful dress, kiss, this is very cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25495360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableDemon/pseuds/IneffableDemon
Summary: Aziraphale has been assigned to keep an eye on the humans partying in Venice during Carnival. All he wants to do is enjoy the festival, drink some wine and taste the food, but work is work.Until a flash of red hair amongst the crowd makes the party much more enjoyable.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 48
Collections: Holly Jolly July: a Good Omens Gift Exchange





	The nights were as dark as my baby, and half as beautiful too

**Author's Note:**

  * For [freyjawriter24](https://archiveofourown.org/users/freyjawriter24/gifts).



> This is my entry for the Holly Jully exchange! I hope you like it, freyjawriter24 <3  
> I wrote this fic with [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gw9fKuymA0I&t=3161s)  
> song in mind:  
> Title of the fic is from "As It Was" by Hozier

Sounds of people laughing and talking echoed through the Venetian streets. Shoes tapped on the wet stone and music filled the air.

Aziraphale was walking quickly towards Piazza San Marco, where the real party was happening. His cape undulated behind him, but he was careful enough not to make it touch the ground. It had been quite some years since he had been in Venice, but there was no way he would get lost; he only had to follow the music.

A couple, with arms intertwined and drunk grins on their faces, bumped into him. Aziraphale bowed his head as a sign of apology, but they didn’t even notice him. He absentmindedly miracled a blessing in their direction, hoping they would get home safe.

Aziraphale picked up his pace. He had a lot of work to do.

Carnival in Venice was supposed to be fun, enjoyable — for an angel on a mission to ensure the safety of humans, not quite so. Aziraphale’s job was to reinforce the Christian meaning behind it all and remind humans of it, making sure they wouldn’t sin and balance things in favour of Hell. Judging by the character of this assignment, it was painfully clear Heaven had no idea about humankind. There was no way only one angel could stop hundreds of people sinning, given the character and opportunity these parties offered.

He could still try and pray that the majority of humans would get home safe, at least.

So there he was, walking to a party he knew there was no chance for him to enjoy yet would have to endure for six whole weeks. Suppressing a sigh, he stepped into the Piazza.

It was as bad as he had imagined. It was full of people in different states of drunkenness, dancing and laughing loudly, bumping against him. Aziraphale closed his eyes, not for the first time, wondering who had the fantastic idea of giving humans masks so they could hide their identities and sin as much as their hearts desired.

He had to admit that, if he ignored the chaos, the Carnival was something beautiful to watch. Humanity had an extraordinary imagination Aziraphale envied, made more apparent with the freedom the Carnival gifted. It was endearing to see how, when their identities were hidden from others, people chose to manifest their personalities in other ways — colours filled Aziraphale’s vision like petals in a field. There were shiny dresses, impossible clothes, masks showing the entire spectrum of human emotion; bodies that danced and intertwined, hands holding each other, their shame and fear left behind, forgotten.

Aziraphale wished to join them, let himself enjoy the music and the food and not think about heavenly assignments and meeting expectations. He wondered what was being offered in the party, what would he find to eat -- was there a piece of fruit of some kind? Grapes, pears? Apples?

It made him think of a certain demon — Aziraphale banished that thought from his mind.

Hurriedly he entered one of the buildings, climbed the stairs and got out on one of the balconies without being noticed by any human. Other people had done the same, preferring to watch the party from an advantageous position rather than mingling with others. Some others preferred the privacy this offered, as the ones in the Piazza wouldn’t look their way.

Aziraphale clasped his hands behind his back and squared his shoulders, ready for a long day of miracles. He would be there for some time, a couple of hours perhaps — enough to miracle several blessings among the people down there so Heaven would be satisfied; then, he would return to the Piazza and taste all the food and the wine he desired.

Perhaps it would be best to send a general blessing to the people down there, then concentrate on the ones he perceived to be more inclined to sin. Stretching his neck, Aziraphale started to work.

Several hours went by. Tiredness was weighing on Aziraphale and he deemed he had done adequately to stop for a while — he needed the rest. He could take this opportunity to go to the Piazza again, mingle with the humans a bit and bask in their joy.

A flash of red caught his eye. It was of a familiar shade, different from the ones he had been watching. Aziraphale squinted his eyes, trying to figure out what he was seeing.

If he was being honest, he already knew. He had spent thousands of years trying to lie to himself about that particular being, attempting to convince himself that his heart didn’t pound with a particular beat with the sight of a demon.

Miraculously, the Piazza cleared for a second, making the figure stand out from the crowd. Aziraphale’s breath stopped in his throat, enraptured by the vision he was witnessing.

It was Crowley.

Aziraphale’s heart hammered against his ribcage with a familiar melody, not following the music that was filling his ears. He smiled in spite of himself.

There she was, the dear demon. Crowley was wearing a black dress, fitting her slender figure, with some red colouring on it. Her hair was long and her red curls covered her shoulders. She was wearing a black Colombina mask with feathers, not covering her entire face. Even from that distance, Aziraphale distinguished her too familiar grin.

She was shining.

Her dress had a strange characteristic Aziraphale couldn’t quite place. It seemed as if Crowley had stolen the night and decided to make a dress out of it. It changed when she moved, the tiny bright spots dancing with her and forming constellations, making it seem as if she was wearing a different dress depending on the angle the light hit her.

Aziraphale’s throat tightened but he tried to convince himself, futilely, that he was just excited to see a face as old as him, a familiar one among the crowd. An angel couldn’t possibly be delighted to see a demon.

Aziraphale was indecisive. Should he descend the stairs, knowing well there was a good chance of walking into Crowley? Or should he just stay there and continue his work as he was supposed to do?

The decision was made for him. Their eyes met.

It was a wonder how Crowley found him. Aziraphale was on a balcony, far away from her, hiding between the shadows, while she was down there surrounded by people and other distractions. Somehow, even though all these circumstances, Crowley noticed him, and Aziraphale could have sworn that Crowley was looking him in the eyes with a smile on her face. She waved at him, keeping her cool demeanour. Aziraphale sighed — he had been spotted, so it would be too rude to ignore her.

Aziraphale descended the stairs, and with the help of some tiny miraculous interventions, he got to her.

Everything was far more chaotic in the Piazza than before. People were dancing, not necessarily to the rhythm of the music, contributing to the noise with their laughter and conversation.

Aziraphale approached Crowley closely enough to hear her speak if they were to engage in conversation. Crowley’s beauty was overwhelming him. Now that he could see her from up close, the angel noticed her hair was braided carefully. She was not wearing her usual glasses and Aziraphale was greeted with the sight of golden eyes. Crowley appeared to be pleased to see him there — hope ached in Aziraphale’s stomach.

“Oh my, angel, what are you doing in a party such as this one?”

She swayed in that serpentine manner of hers, curiosity shining in those beautiful eyes, making her dress shift in a hypnotizing manner. Her mask also shone, but not as brightly as her dress. Crowley was radiant.

“Well, you know how this goes. Lent is coming up and the poor humans need to free themselves a bit before it. I am here to, ah, well…” Aziraphale wiggled his fingers. “Control the situation, as to say.”

Crowley nodded. “Oh yeah, I see, very reasonable. Some blessing here and there, so things don’t get too wild, right?”

“Yes, exactly!” Aziraphale smiled broadly, surprised to see the demon so understanding of angelic matters.

“So, what is exactly the point of this, if you don’t let people party as much as they want?” Crowley made a big gesture with her arms. “Look at them! They are enjoying themselves and I’m sure they won’t even _dare_ to break Lent.”

Aziraphale studied her face, and realization dawned on him. “You are here for a job isn’t it?”

Crowley squirmed under his gaze, averting his eyes. Aziraphale attempted not to smile too much — he was spot on and he knew it.

“Uh, maybe.”

“To increase the amount of sin, make sure the party _does_ go wild?”

Crowley looked at her sparkling shoes and sighed. “Yup.”

“Meaning... we are cancelling each other right now.”

Crowley finally returned his gaze and grimaced — it was enough for Aziraphale. The angel closed his eyes, frustrated. Hours of work for nothing. Still, he couldn’t deny the pleasure it gave him to see the demon — not that Aziraphale would tell her so.

Crowley balanced her weight with her feet, trying to come up with something to say. “So.”

“So.”

“We could, perhaps… enjoy the party? We’re already here, and it would be a waste not to, right angel? You look fantastic for the occasion and all…” Crowley trailed off, her voice becoming lower as she spoke.

“What, this?” Aziraphale gestured at his outfit. He had made an effort, true, so he could blend in with the crowd. He was wearing a grey coat with gold flower patterns, with a light grey waistcoat and breeches, stockings covering his legs. The neck stock was also gold, and the overall outfit reminded him of what he had worn during the French Revolution. Aziraphale missed that outfit — he was even wearing the same old, shiny shoes. He had a cane on one hand, and his mask, gold as the details of his clothes, had a prominent mouth that let him eat and drink without having to take it off. Aziraphale was also wearing a cape, with gold and white details.

Crowley nodded, her eyes taking in his outfit appreciatively, and Aziraphale blushed, embarrassed. It was nice that one’s efforts were appreciated, for once.

The music shifted, acquiring a more romantic tone. People surrounding them searched for partners and began to dance, and Aziraphale and Crowley found themselves looking at each other shyly.

Something clicked in Aziraphale’s brain and, for once, he decided to take the risk. There were plenty of people there, making it difficult to be detected, he reasoned; and he had already done his job — there was no cause for Heaven to punish him. And it was what was socially expected of them to do — he couldn’t quite ignore it. Taking a deep breath, he offered his hand to Crowley.

Crowley stared at his hand in a way that would haunt Aziraphale for a long time. Her eyes were wide, expectant, with a hopeful flame shining in them. She looked at Aziraphale, unsure — but then she put her hand on Aziraphale’s.

Temptation accomplished.

Aziraphale offered her a wide smile, making her blush under the mask. Aziraphale, like the angel he was, didn’t really know how to dance, but he was confident in the fact that he could perfectly make some steps following a certain rhythm without complicating it too much. Crowley put her hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder and the angel, timidly, his bravery gone in an instance, froze. Crowley tenderly took his other hand and placed it on her waist, Aziraphale’s cane vanishing from existence.

They began to dance. It was a poor imitation of a waltz, but they were too busy being enraptured by each other to notice how badly they were dancing. The music was romantic and just _perfect,_ causing Aziraphale to wonder if the source of it was his own soul.

His gaze couldn’t tear away from Crowley’s. Had her eyes always been this hypnotizing? Her movements were too serpentine to be seen as normal from a human perspective. Aziraphale was grateful for the mask because he was flushed, his love for that demon pouring from him in great waves. Aziraphale secretly prayed that Crowley wouldn’t be able to notice. His gaze darted to her lips, and he imagined kissing her, right there and then. Aziraphale’s heart hurt in a pleasant way, in the way a heart hurts from longing.

Their noses brushed as they both leaned on the other. They didn’t dare to kiss, not yet — instead, they savoured each other’s presence. They swirled with the music, their feet moving without a thought behind them. Crowley had a scent that was intoxicating, one Aziraphale associated with a forest in midnight, a smell Aziraphale had been enchanted with from the first time it had drowned his senses. People stared at them now, but they were too captured by each other’s eyes to notice.

This is how it had always been. With their souls flickering, always finding each other, always destined to meet and dance. No matter where they chose to escape to, they would always end up like this — instant recognition of one heart to another, an unspeakable emotion taking place, a too familiar one for it to be safe. Big words such as Heaven and Hell were no longer part of the story for just a second, an hour, a night of drinking — and the temptation to forget about them for good always flamed in their minds until responsibility dawned on them again. Maybe this was how love stories and soulmates had been invented; humanity had been a witness to this dance for as long as it existed, demon and angel gravitating towards one another and colliding, again and again, at the rhythm of a music that would never stop.

Their foreheads touched. Something screamed inside of Aziraphale’s mind — this was too much, it was going too fast, they could get discovered and Crowley would be in danger —

“It’s fine, angel. Stay with me.”

Crowley’s voice was soothing and calm, grounding Aziraphale in the here and now. His arms surrounded Crowley’s body, hugging her, burying his nose in her shoulder. Aziraphale’s heart felt like bursting, the proximity of her making his heart sing. He wanted to hold her for eternity, forget about their respective responsibilities. He felt her lean arms shyly return the hug.

“Ngk,” said Crowley.

Aziraphale snapped and came back to reality. He stepped back from Crowley, her face as flustered as his. They couldn’t do this — a moment of weakness could be fatal. The angel stared at her face, trying to decide what to do. He didn’t want to leave her there and pretend nothing happened, but he couldn’t stay there either.

Aziraphale then noticed something. The feathers decorating Crowley’s mask were black and shiny, magnificent ones… and also familiar.

“Are those your feathers?” Aziraphale was shocked, the previous embarrassment forgotten.

“Ngh, agh, maybe.” Crowley touched them gently. “I just thought it was a pity I couldn’t show off my wings more. I take good care of them, and all these people are missing out. So I decided to add them to the mask because I can’t just pull my wings out.”

Aziraphale brushed the feathers with the tips of his fingers, and their hands momentarily touched. They exchanged a look, and Aziraphale softened.

“Did it hurt, my dear?”

“When I fell from Heaven? A bit, but I survived.” Crowley laughed dryly and Aziraphale huffed. “No, angel, don’t worry — I just miracled them already plucked so I didn’t have to actually do it. No pain.”

“Could I…?” Aziraphale cleared his throat, undecisive. What he was about to ask was very private and intimate, and he was unsure if he should continue the question. Crowley arched an eyebrow, curious; Aziraphale understood that he had now to finish the sentence, or Crowley would start asking questions about it. “Could I take a look, make sure your wings are fine? You — you can say no if you want, there’s no pressure, and it would be perfectly understandable for you to—”

“Yes. You can take a look.” Crowley was deadly serious; Aziraphale searched in her eyes for any shadow of a doubt but found none. The implications of it overwhelmed Aziraphale for a second — Crowley, a demon, trusted him so much that she could be vulnerable with him, an angel, an enemy. Aziraphale wriggled his hands, nervous, but the decision was already taken.

“Come with me, please.”  
  


Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s hand, a fluttering and slender thing, and guided them away from the humans to a dark alley. There, after making sure no one was observing them, Aziraphale snapped his fingers, miracling them to the room he had been renting in a hospice.

Crowley looked around, curious to find out where Aziraphale had been staying. It was an impersonal room, not much to see — just a bed and an armchair. Everything was closed, not allowing for much light to enter. Somehow, the angel had filled every available surface with books. It was ridiculous — Crowley laughed.

“How come, wherever you go, you always manage to bring this many books with you?”

Aziraphale fumbled with his hands and adjusted his waistcoat. “I don’t trust anyone with these, and I couldn’t leave them alone! They need company.”

_I do too,_ thought Aziraphale, looking at Crowley.

Even in the dim room, Crowley was spectacular. Her dress managed to shine even in the poor light, sending reflections all across the walls. Tiny spots of light covered the room now, shifting and changing when Crowley moved. Crowley had taken the stars with her, filling the room with them — a landscape just for the two.

Aziraphale cleared his throat, focusing. He miracled a stool, hoping Heaven wouldn’t notice the abuse of frivolous miracles. “Sit down, my dear.”

Crowley did so, her dress wooshing against the floor. Aziraphale stepped behind her and tenderly moved her hair to leave the back open. Her neck was showing, and Aziraphale wanted to kiss it, drown her with the love an angel could give. Instead, his fingers lingered a moment more than necessary. How would it feel, braiding that luscious hair of hers?

“Show me your wings.”

Crowley wriggled on her seat, making Aziraphale worried about this entire situation. Perhaps Crowley didn’t want to do this, show her wings to an angel. This had been a mistake.

The apparition of Crowley’s wings vanished all anxious thoughts out of his mind. Crowley’s wings were the most beautiful things Aziraphale had ever witnessed, setting aside the possible blasphemy of such an opinion. He had only seen them on that wall, back in Eden, and had ached to see them again. The wait had been worth it.

The feathers were sharp and lean, much like their owner, with an intense black that could make the darkest of nights seem pale in comparison. They absorbed all light, a presence that stole all attention and space in that tiny room. Aziraphale wondered how quick Crowley would be while flying, and ached to see her in the sky.

Carefully, Aziraphale extended a hand and touched the feathers. Crowley shivered nearly imperceptibly and opened wide her wings to give Aziraphale better room to inspect them.

“Were those feathers secondaries?”

Crowley nodded, strangely silent. Aziraphale inspected the secondaries of the left wing and found the spots where there was a lack of feathers. There was no damage or bruise, luckily. Aziraphale lightly touched the spots, directing a few healing powers there, but not enough to damage Crowley’s demonic nature. Crowley shivered again and sucked a breath.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No, angel, it’s perfectly fine. Please continue.”

Aziraphale ran his fingers through the feathers, putting into place some ruffled ones. He did so softly, making sure he didn’t scrap Crowley by accident. Her shoulders slowly relaxed, slouching herself on the stool in a way that made her body seem liquid. Bones were something that was not part of Crowley’s dictionary, apparently.

Left wing done, Aziraphale went to inspect the right one. Much like in the left, some feathers were missing, but there was no big damage done. Very few feathers had been taken, but Aziraphale gave it his blessing either way.

Crowley shifted on her seat. Aziraphale put his hands on her shoulders reassuringly, massaging a bit. Crowley turned his head backwards, and Aziraphale found himself getting lost in her yellow eyes. She was upside down, and her grin was bizarre from that perspective.

“You simply can’t stay still, is that it, my dear?”

Crowley’s grin got wider, her eyebrows wriggling conspiratorially. “Nope.”

Aziraphale smiled, his heart feeling bigger. What a little rebel she was, and how endearing. “Come on, let me take care of you.”

Aziraphale noticed Crowley’s throat bob, her grin transforming into something softer, shy -— and for the second time that day, Aziraphale did something which surprised even him.

He leaned a bit and kissed Crowley’s painted forehead. Crowley’s breath hitched — it had only been a feathery touch, a mere brush of lips against skin, but the point of contact burnt Aziraphale’s lips. He stepped back, flustered.

Crowley got up suddenly with a movement of her spine that could only be explained with her snake nature, and with the quickness of one, she plunged towards Aziraphale. Her hands cupped the angel’s face full of tenderness, fingers darting against the skin and finding a resting position. She leaned in, tried to kiss him, but the rush of it all made her forget about masks, and instead collided with Aziraphale’s.

“Off with this thing already, I want to kiss you!”

To Aziraphale’s shock, Crowley took off his mask and sent it flying, and finally kissed him. Aziraphale relaxed into it, his soul and heart screaming with _finally, this is it, this is happening_. His arms surrounded her, putting them closer, as close as he could manage.

Aziraphale returned the kiss, over and over, not believing his luck — Crowley’s scent and taste were intoxicating, her lips as soft as her dress. She had not taken the mask, and it was scratching against his skin uncomfortably. Aziraphale stopped kissing her for a second to take off her mask and put it aside, but he did not send it flying as dramatically as Crowley had done. He caressed her hair and put his hand on her cheek.

Insecurity manifested in those golden eyes, so Aziraphale kissed her again, and kissed her on top of her eyelids, pouring all his love into it.

“Why, angel? Why do you give me hope like this?”

Tears were gathering in Crowley’s eyes, and Aziraphale kissed them all away. “What do you mean, my dear, my love?”

Crowley put her hand on her face, shielding her eyes, but Aziraphale didn’t let her — he took her hand and planted a kiss on the palm. Crowley muttered the words back, _my love,_ searching for something in Aziraphale’s face.

“Do you mean it?”

Aziraphale returned her gaze. “Always.”

Crowley smiled and Aziraphale felt as if flowers blossomed inside of him.

“I do too. Just so you know.”

The world, then, held breath, as those two creatures that had always been dancing around each other finally found the other. They stopped avoiding each other, and for a while, they existed in the same space. 

Later on, when Crowley found herself alone, she sensed a tingling feeling coming from the ethereal plane. It was light, soft, a mere sound of bells, and curiosity woke in her. In privacy, she made her wings appear, and the tingling sensation made itself bigger. Some of her feathers radiated a warm sensation as if they had been under the sun for too long. With the help of a mirror, she inspected the feathers in question, and what she found made her blush.

White feathers, with light golden reflexes, were tangled between the black ones. Angelic feathers that Crowley would have recognized anywhere. She caressed them, tenderly, the feathers slightly reacting to her touch, lightening up his heart. Aziraphale had managed to put his own feathers there, and that small act of love shook Crowley to the core. It didn’t even matter that it broke Crowley’s general aesthetic — Crowley would wear them always, proudly, hidden beneath his own.

A secret only for Crowley and Aziraphale to know.

**Author's Note:**

> Aziraphale's clothes:  
> -Mask and cape:  
>   
> -Rest of the outfit:  
>   
> Crowley's clothes:  
> -Mask:  
>   
> -Dress: (this is kinda the model I was imagining for it, but couldn't find one that fit my image of it with stars and such *cries*)  
>   
> 


End file.
